


More Than A Distraction

by afteriwake



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton-centric, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Natasha Feels, Natasha Needs a Hug, POV Clint Barton, Protective Clint, Sleeping Together, Storms, Thunder and Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:57:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5450825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black Widow is fearless. Natasha is not. And Clint knows this, when she wakes him up in the middle of a thunderstorm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than A Distraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zugzwangxo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zugzwangxo/gifts).



> So my friend **zugzwangxo** has had a rough couple of days and we were talking on Tumblr yesterday and I offered to write her a fic, and she wanted Clintasha with a little angst and fluff. Originally I was using a prompt from a Tumblr group about a member of my OTP being afraid during a thunderstorm and waking the other half of my OTP up but it veered away from the prompt so I just ended up not putting it here. But I hope you like it, hun. ::hugs::

Black Widow was fearless.

Black Widow would face off against a group of armed men, all bigger than her, and do it with a grin that would send a chill down their spines. Black Widow would go toe to toe with guys with chemical or robotic enhancements with nothing extra on her person and come out the victor with _maybe_ a little sheen of perspiration on her brow. Black Widow would go challenge a God and not even bat an eye. Black Widow had a pair of brass ones that made even the most grown men respect her, even if anatomically she didn’t.

But Natalia Alianova Romanoff wasn’t always Black Widow, and not everyone saw that.

But he did. She trusted him enough to let her guard down around him, to let her see the vulnerable side that most people didn’t. The softer side of the spider, he’d joke when it was just them. If he really wanted to push his luck, he’d say it was the fleshy underside as his hand would linger over her abdomen and sometimes skirt a little lower, edging against the waistband of the soft cotton bikini briefs she wore. Sometimes she’d swat his hand away, sometimes she’d shift so his fingers could edge underneath, depending on her mood. He never knew with his lapochka, even if she hated it when he called her that..

He loved her. When he’d gone on the mission where they’d met, the one where he was supposed to kill her, he’d never expected to fall in love with her. She’d been a cold-blooded KGB assassin, he’d been a hot-headed ex-carnie S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with a fondness for crossbows. Never should have worked between them. Surprised him every damn day that it did. Surprised him every damn minute, actually.

Even now, after all these years, most nights they slept alone. She still didn’t like spending the night. And he understood that; she was damaged from her time in the Red Room, from what had been done to her there. And as long as she wanted him too, he’d give her space. She didn’t want to spend a whole night with him, she could leave his bed when she felt like it and go back to her place. They ever got serious enough to share the same space, they could have separate rooms if she wanted. As long as he got some time beside her, he’d be okay with that.

He was surprised she hadn’t left yet, but it’d been a long, complicated mission and it was raining outside. He enjoyed the rain, he supposed; not being out in it, not the feel of it, but the sound of it. Not just the sounds of rain drops, but the sounds of thunder, too. But he could tell she didn’t, he realized as he slowly woke up from post-coital slumber; Nat was stiff as a board, rigid and sitting upright next to him, flinching each time thunder hit. “Nat?” he asked sleepily, sitting up, the sheet and blanket slipping down to his waist as he sat up as well.

Thunder clapped again and she flinched. It took him a minute to realize she wasn’t there with him; she was in her head, going through some memory somewhere. It hadn’t been the easiest of missions and she might have had a nightmare, and that combined with the storm had put her in a bad place. He wasn’t sure whether she wanted to be touched, but he felt it wouldn’t hurt, and so he placed a hand on her arm. He didn’t grab it, keeping his touch feather light. She turned, and it took him a moment to register that she was looking at him, that he was there. “Clint,” she said finally, some of the stiffness seeping out of her. She sagged her shoulders and relaxed a bit.

He nodded. “Not a fan of thunderstorms?” he asked, tilting his head.

She shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “Bad memories associated with them.”

“Red in your ledger?” he asked. She nodded. She didn’t appear to want to say any more than that, and after a moment he pulled her closer, nearly pulling her into his lap. It was an awkward position, but soon enough they got a bit more comfortable. Nat settled in, setting her chin on his shoulder, and he held her close. “I could distract you.”

“You could,” she said, her words slightly jumbled as she didn’t move her chin much. “You’re a good distraction.”

“Am I only a distraction?” he asked before he thought about it. She pulled away to look at him, studying him curiously until he looked away, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t meant to bring it up, not now. Not ever, if he was really smart. He didn’t need to know. It was better not to know. “Crap, Nat, forget I asked, okay?”

She reached forward and turned his face so he was looking at her. “You aren’t just a distraction, Clint,” she said, caressing his cheek with a gentleness that he was used to from her that he was sure others would find her incapable of. She leaned in more. “You’re too important to me to be just a distraction.”

“What am I to you, then?” he asked, surprised.

“A friend, a confidante, a lover, someone I trust more than I trust myself,” she said, leaning in. “Ti nuzhnA mne vsyO bOl’she i bOl’she.” She kissed him, a slow, searching kiss that he returned, moving his hands to the bottom hem of the shirt of his she had thrown on the sleep in after a few moments as she began to lean forward more to push him onto his back. He knew what the words meant. To her, that meant he was her partner, her equal, her everything. That meant, in her own way, she loved him just as much as he loved her, and that was all he needed to know about her to know that whatever they had, their bond was strong enough to withstand anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Russian Translations
> 
> **lapochka -** _sweetie pie_
> 
>  **Ti nuzhnA mne vsyO bOl’she i bOl’she -** _I need you more and more_


End file.
